


say goodbye to alexandra leaving

by tawnyPort



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, dance me to the end of the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawnyPort/pseuds/tawnyPort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But now here you are on the flagship of the Imperial fleet. Commander Eridan Ampora, decorated military hero on board the Battleship Condescension by personal handwritten invitation of the Heiress herself and what're you doing? Lurking on the viewing deck with another glass of mediocre brandy, staring out at the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	say goodbye to alexandra leaving

In retrospect you're pretty much ashamed of how much time you spent getting yourself ready for this night. To say it's been sweeps since you've seen her would be an understatement of the grandest kind. You made no secret of the fact that she broke your bladder based aquatic vascular system into a thousand tiny pieces. She made no secret of the fact that she disapproved of your desperate attempts to get somebody, pretty much anybody, to fill that void. You were supposed to be more discriminating than that, maybe, or just plain better but if she thought you were better then maybe she never really knew you that well to begin with.

You know that's a lie as soon as it crosses your pan. She always knew you better than anybody and that's why she thought you ought to be better than fucking your way up the chain of command. She just couldn't bear the burden of being the only person who could get you to _be_ the better person she always saw. You sure as shit never saw him. For all your posturing you knew you were going to have to make certain concessions in the realm of personal dignity to be taken seriously. You just spent too damn long thinking otherwise with nothing to back it up for that to not be the case when the time came. 

You fought viciously about it at first but she always drew the line at giving you what you needed. She'd tell you what a great commander you were going to be, she'd tell you how smart she really thought you were, but it was never enough to stick, to stay, to lift up the parts of you that sank the day she left. Instead of you coming up, her opinion just started to fall, or at least that was how it seemed. She stopped having any empathy, said she thought it was just about seeing how many pails you could fill on your way up the ranks. You could never make her understand it was so much worse than that, not even when Tavros died and you crawled your way back to Vriska. 

At least with Vriska you could avoid the illusion that this had anything to do with filling quadrants or pails or wounds. Something in her died when that stupid cripple bought it and whatever it was, the hollow in her called out to the hollow in you and you spent sweeps digging your claws into each other and ripping the holes wider and wider. When fate finally came for Vriska it was, if you were really honest with yourself, probably the best thing that ever happened to you, but you're never honest with yourself so instead you made a list of exactly who you'd have to pail and who you'd have to kill to get your own ship as fast as possible. Nobody could ever say you lacked for ambition and method when the moment truly called for it.

But now here you are on the flagship of the Imperial fleet. Commander Eridan Ampora, decorated military hero on board the Battleship Condescension by personal handwritten invitation of the Heiress herself and what're you doing? Lurking on the viewing deck with another glass of mediocre brandy, staring out at the stars. You spent a night and a half and humiliated at least three ensigns to the point of soiling themselves guaranteeing that every detail of your presentation was flawless, especially considering you intended to attend alone. You'd received a number of solicitations to be your plus one but you knew you would be even less fit company than usual tonight and while normally that wouldn't be a deterrent you also knew that rather than cutting a terrifying figure, you were likely to end up drunk and shriveled before you left and you wanted as few people as possible to be in close viewing range of that thank you very much.

Hence the retreat to the viewing deck. You can still hear the music and the bustle of the party from here so you're not completely cut off and if something sounds like it's going on that demands the presence of the captain of the warship Dioscuri (you had it rechristened and fuck anybody who asked about why) then you can make your way back down, but at a party of this caliber you're just another face in the crowd, unlikely to be missed. You could spend the entire night up here tracing the shapes of dead friends in the stars and nobody'd ever miss you.

You're considering doing just that when you hear a rustle behind you that makes the music sound very far away, farther than the stars, and all you see is the tableau reflected in the glass: a violet princeling in a boat cloak and evening dress holding a snifter of amber liquid and looking very tired and, behind him, the woman who would rule the universe in a gown of opulent black and tyrian silk moire with her hands clasped in front of her like she's waiting for you to notice her, looking as fresh and achingly bright as the day she was hatched.

“Hello, Eridan.”

“Your Imperial Serenity.” She'd chosen the title herself in direct defiance of the Empress. You remember the day she told you. You were so proud and she wears it so well. That was a lifetime ago, though. You bow deeply, the arm holding your glass pressed into the bend of your waist and the other bending behind your back. The effect is exactly what you'd hoped for. When you straighten and meet her eyes in the reflection, she's hurt.

“Eridan,” she implores but you're having none of it. You keep your shoulders back, chest high, fins tall and eyes forward. “Oh honestly. At ease, Captain.”

That's an order. You let your posture relax and take a full sip of the brandy. It's warm going down and it gives you an excuse to close your eyes for a moment. When you open them again she's closed some of the distance between you.

“You're not even going to turn around?” The hurt is gone and she's on the verge of smiling, you can see it in her eyes. A hundred thousand sweeps could pass and you wouldn't be immune to that look. You snap around quickly, making sure your cloak swings. It is, and has been for as long as you've been walking on two legs, your dearest armor. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Anythin for the Heiress.” You don't bow because that would be insulting after she ordered you at ease but you're not about to drop your guard. 

Her full lips press together and she huffs out a sharp exhale. “Am I going to have to order you to call me Feferi, Eridan? Is that really what this has come to?” She crosses her arms over her chest, bracelets tinkling.

You strongly consider saying yes. She drew herself away from you like the arms of her lusus drawing down into the lightless depth, leaving you suspended in the water with no invitation to follow. Why shouldn't she have to thrash her way to the surface just like you did? But you can't. “I'm sorry, Feferi.” It sounds unnatural. “Fef.”

She smiles a little and lowers her arms, stepping up to stand at your side. She lays her hands on the railing and leans forward, letting her breath puff against the glass. “Who were you talking to?”

“I don't know if you noticed this, Fef, but I'm out here alone.” You stay facing away from the glass but you lean back, resting your elbows on the railing and watching her out of the corner of your eye.

“Eridan, don't be stupid.” The tilt of her head as she rolls her eyes toward you, chastising but trying to be playful, makes her hair undulate down her back. “I do it too. I come out here to talk to them when it all just gets to be too much.”

“Fef, if you're talkin to the Noble Circle I think it might be time to take the ship home and spend some time with your lusus because nothin good is goin to come of that.” You can't help yourself. It's out of your mouth before you even really know what you're saying. The hand not holding the glass balls into a fist under your cloak and your stomach collapses in on itself, a tiny tight ball of instant regret.

“Coddammit Eridan!” She turns to face you and you know you stepped in it now. Her cheekbones are brushed with purple but her eyes are wide and searching. “I am trying to have a conversation with you but if you are just going to stand there and be condescending to me then you can mope out here alone for all I care. That's obviously what you want anyway!” Another ninety degree turn has her headed out the door but you push off the railing and go after her, catching her wrist. She stops and you let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding, but she doesn't turn around.

“I'm sorry.” You let go of her wrist and silently beg her to stay. She does. “Feels like I'm sayin that a lot just now.” She still doesn't turn around but her chin lowers a little and you know she's listening. “I was talkin to Kan.”

She closes her eyes for a long moment and all you can do is breathe and try to memorize the curve of her lashes. With a sigh she turns back to face you. “That's not who I was expecting.”

“Well I tried talkin to Kar but he just yelled at me as per fuckin usual complete with an assortment of creative names and that was the very last thing I found myself in need of tonight so I hung up on him and talked to Kan instead.” You can't look at her while you're talking about this so you stare down into your brandy, spinning the glass between your hands and following the whirlpool it makes. “Just needed somebody to tell me how to get through this night is all.”

“Kanaya would have known. She was a good choice.” Her voice has softened again and you think you can maybe stop panicking that she's going to take off. As long as you can keep your mouth in check anyway. “I talk to her a lot too.” She steps forward and puts a hand on your wrist, stilling the motion of your drink. “Is it really that bad, being here tonight?”

You lift your head slowly and open your eyes. She's there to meet your gaze, of course, and there's a light of hope in her eyes, also of course. “Not bad, no, I just... I have no idea what I'm doin here. It all made sense in my head comin and then I got here and suddenly nothin was the right thing to do anymore. So I figured I would come out here and talk to somebody and do nothin until the band left.” That had been your entire plan. Put in an appearance, make sure the right people saw you, do your utmost to make sure Feferi didn't despite the fact that all this had been just to catch her eye, then slink out.

“And what did Kanaya tell you to do?” Her delicate brows arch up above her glasses and she looks like she almost believes you got an answer. Like the Karkat you heard wasn't your own mind berating you for your weakness in the face of what, a broken heart? And like Kanaya wasn't just your better nature pounding on the doors you'd closed around yourself and imploring you to, for once, listen to reason.

“That she couldn't believe with all the time I spend off planet somehow my accent wasn't any better.” You shrug. It was something she'd said in life, why not now that she was gone? “And that I should put my drink down and go back out and try to enjoy myself. She even told me to try to talk to you but since I'm obviously doin such a fine job of that I was pretty much goin to ignore that particular portion of her advice.”

“I think you're doing great. Well,” she shrugs one shoulder a little, “apart from trying to imply that I was turning grimdark. Could really have done without that, Eridan.” She's taken one hand from around your glass and is holding it now. You wish you hadn't worn gloves.

“I already said I'm sorry, Fef.” You frown with the effort to keep from snapping at her. What does she want, blood? It's not like she should have expected anything less from you, really.

“I know. I don't want you to apologize again.” She steps in closer to you and takes the glass from your hand, helping herself to a sip of it before she leans over and sets it a short distance away on the ground. Her grip on your hand tightens as she leans; she's using you for support, you realize, and squeeze back. She scraping her tongue with her fangs when she stands up. “Oh cod, is that really the best brandy we had here tonight? I'm going to have a serious conversation with the bar tending staff after this because that is unacceptable.”

You just smile and let her go on. You didn't ask for the best brandy they had but the image of kitchen staff fleeing in terror before this woman you've loved since your first molt is one to relish.

“Aaaanyway, I don't want to hear any more apologies tonight. I think you are not giving Kanaya nearly enough credit and I think she would be very disappointed if she found out her meddling came to nothing.” She takes your other hand and nods. “I think we should make her proud.”

You look down at your joined hands and suddenly the room seems very small, like you don't have the entire universe on the other side of the glass. “And just what do you think would make Kan proud?”

“If we went above and beyond the call of duty, obviously.” She tugs on your hands. “Dance with me, Eridan. Please.” As if on cue—and for all you know it may actually be on cue considering that this is not just anybody asking you to dance and if anybody had the power to bend even music to her will it'd be Feferi—the music stills for a moment, a pause before a new song.

You swallow, trying to free up some space in your throat for words. “Of course, Fef.” You move one hand to her waist and lift the other pair up, locking your elbows. “I feel it's important for you to know that I haven't danced in sweeps, though, so I'd appreciate it if there were no judgin if I am not up on the latest dance styles.”

She beams and puts her hand on your shoulder as something drifts up from downstairs, a few chords in waltz time. You're frozen for a moment but she pulls you into the steps. “I would never judge you, Eridan.” 

You can't stifle the soft snort you let out in reaction to her words, but neither of you stop moving. You do your best to hold your form. She taught you these steps and it's not just Kanaya you're trying to impress. She is nothing but muscle under her dress, such a contrast to the soft roundness of her face. “If I'm bein honest with you here, Fef, there has been many a time I've felt myself considerably judged when talkin to you.”

“It was never judgment, Eridan.” Her voice is matter of fact and she shakes her head a little to emphasize her words. “Not once did I ever think you were less of a person for anything you did.” She cants her head and quirks up one corner of her mouth. “I mean if I'm bein honest with you here, Eri,” she continues, a perfect play on your accent, “bein better than others was always kinda your thing.”

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof_  
 _You saw her bathing on the roof_  
 _Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you_

You really can't make a reply to that. She's not wrong and you have no defense against her for that. “It's been a long time since I thought anything like that, Fef. All of them, they were pretty much better than I ever was or am goin to be.” You could by some miracle become the royal matesprit and sit beside her on her throne and you'd still be less than even the lowest blooded among your friends. They never schemed to murder you, after all.

“No. Most of them were your equals.” She doesn't react to the surprise you feel on your face. Even after all this time, even after possibly being personally responsible for the destruction of Vriska's ship, Feferi still hates her that much. “All I ever wanted was for you to see that.” She breaks the box position, moving in closer and draping her arm over your shoulders. You let your hand slide to the small of her back but manage to not miss a step, something you consider to be a minor miracle in and of itself.

“I can see that now,” you murmur, turning your head to glance out at the stars for a second. “But naturally bein me I waited until it was way too late and now there's not much good in that kinda revelation except to make me feel worse for not knowin it sooner.” You look back at her and there, just the two of you dancing alone, you can feel the weight of the sweeps on you. Every troll you grew up with is dead except the one in your arms and she is so very alive. You hope she doesn't feel it as heavily as you. Nothing should weigh her down. Ever.

“Oh, Eridan.” She lifts her hand from your shoulder and lays it gently on the side of your face. She's as cool and soft as night sand. “You know me better than that. It's never too late.” 

Giving up all pretense of formality you close your eyes and lean your cheek on her hand. She smells like salt and sea foam and moonlight. She smells like home.

_Now maybe there's a god above_  
 _But all I ever learned from love_  
 _Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you_

You're almost afraid to open your eyes when her hand drifts away but suddenly there's a warm presence on your forehead to match the warmth inside your chest and when you look she's right there, her forehead resting against yours like she used to do when you were small. In an instant you are five sweeps instead of five hundred, you are barefoot and dancing in her hive, pretending it's a ball to celebrate her victory and ascension and you are there at her side. Her moirail. _Of course you're going to be with me, Eridan, who else would I have there? Shoosh._ You can almost hear the water moving around you and the universe outside the window could rush in and drown you for all you care as long as you died like this.

Both her arms are on your shoulders now and you lower your other hand to the small of your back, carefully taking one glove off. As gently as you can you reach up and trace your thumb along her jaw and under her fin, then card your fingers back through her hair.

_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_  
 _Love is not a victory march_  
 _It's a cold and lonely hallelujah_

“Oh, Eridan, I--” She starts to lift her head away but you rest your hand on the back of her head. The sadness in her voice is raw.

“Shh.” You shake your head a fraction of an inch, not wanting to dislodge her. “I know, Fef. I ain't... it's not anythin like that.” It is, this is a complete lie but it is the lie that has lived and breathed between you just below the surface for as long as you can remember and that is a very long time. Both of you know it but even if she never does anything else for you again you hope she'll let that sink. Just for now.

_And every breath we drew was hallelujah_

She doesn't, though, pulling her forehead away so she can look you in the eye. “Eridan. There's something I need to tell you.” You shake your head again.

“Fef, it's all right, I know I was never, like literally ever, any good about it before but this time I swear--”

“No, not about... no.” Observing her now you can see that it's really not. Your touch shook something loose in her, that much is true, but it's not what you thought. “Eridan, I'm ready.”

_There's a blaze of light in every word_  
 _It doesn't matter which you heard_  
 _The holy or the broken hallelujah_

The warm feeling in your chest washes away on her words like a sandbar, dissolving into something gritty in your throat. “Fef, what're you even sayin to me right now?”

“I'm ready. I'm going to lay my challenge to her tonight. This has gone on too long. You're the only person left in the universe who knows, who really knows, what doing this means for me, and...” She reaches up with her perfect delicate fingers and threads the tips of them through the hair just above your fin. You were hoping she wouldn't see it but she never misses anything, and the patch of silver in your hair is getting pretty hard to miss anyway. On your ship they say it makes you look distinguished. In private you know what it makes you. Old. Cullbait. Every sweep going forward is going to be a fight to prove you're still worth keeping alive. “And if I don't do it now then I might never do it at all. That's why it was so important to me that you be here tonight. I need to know you're going to support me in this.” 

“Of course, oh my cod, whatever you need from me, you know--” She stills your mouth with a fingertip and you bite your lip behind the pressure.

“Just be here, OK? Just be here and then, when it happens, be there. That's all I need.” She lifts her finger away. “You have to promise me that, Eridan.”

“Her Imperial Serenity Feferi Peixes, there is not a force in the universe that could keep me away.”

She stops dancing and just wraps her arms around you, tucking her face into your neck just the way she learned after perigees of whacking you with her horns. You cling to her, burying your nose in her hair, and take advantage of the fact that no matter how tightly you hold her you know you'll never break her. Nothing can break her. She is an unstoppable force against the Condesce's immoveable object.

_I did my best, it wasn't much_  
 _I couldn't feel so I tried to touch_  
 _I've told the truth_  
 _I didn't come to fool you_

“I missed you,” she whispers, letting you stroke her hair without interruption now.

“I missed you too.” The song is ending, you can hear it, but neither of you move.

“Can we just stay here a while? I don't want to go down yet.” Her voice is deceptively small but what she's preparing for is so enormous it'd shrink anybody.

“Whatever you need, Fef, didn't I just say that?” You both know what's waiting for you when you go back down those stairs. You're going to lose her again to the rest of the universe and she is going to offer herself up to it willingly. Just not yet.

You press your lips against her hair and look out at the stars. One way or another, she's going to rule them soon, and one way or another, you're always going to be with her there.

_But even though it all went wrong_  
 _I'll stand before the Lord of Song_  
 _With nothing on my tongue_  
 _But hallelujah_

**Author's Note:**

> I am kind of a pain in the ass purist so:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrLk4vdY28Q  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3Fkuq5Lf0Q
> 
> These are the versions of Hallelujah used in the writing of this fic. Leonard Cohen appreciation life. The title is also from a Leonard Cohen song:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auqyZ2JX7Bs  
> Go on, listen. Treat yo self.


End file.
